


it's far, far worse for me

by mightydeafeningmouse



Category: Unus Annus - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Ethan, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Major ethan angst, Mark is a good friend, Non-Consensual Touching, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27736159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightydeafeningmouse/pseuds/mightydeafeningmouse
Summary: "I'm so, so sorry Eth," Mark mumbles earnestly, his own tears dripping onto Ethan's crown. "I'm so fucking sorry."Ethan shoves his face into Mark's chest, hands fisting clumps of Mark's shirt. He whispers something so soft and broken, Mark almost doesn't hear it."I-It hurtso fucking bad."Markbreaks down.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach & Ethan Nestor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 189





	it's far, far worse for me

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be my last for in this fandom for a while. I have mixed feelings about writing an UA fic after it ended, but i started this fic while it was still alive, so i dont really know. Enjoy! 
> 
> TW: mentions of rape, graphic-ish descriptions, spiked drinks, non-consensual touching

The first time his phone goes off, it's nearly 12:45 in the morning, and Mark is ass deep in editing Unus Annus footage. Which, as far as late nights go, 12:45 isn't something to complain about. 

However, in context, it actually is something for Mark to fuss over, because it's the second time in the short life span of Unus Annus that Mark's been forced to edit a video Ethan was supposed to have covered. And, you know, he gets it, Ethan wanted to go spend time with one of his long-distance friends who stopped by unannounced, but it's the fact that Mark had plans to have a somewhat romantic evening with Amy, which he's now being forced to spend working. 

To say Mark's bitter about it would be an understatement. 

So, technically, Mark could spare a minute to answer the chirping device, except it's Ethan who's calling, and Mark is a little too peeved to pick up. 

He watches with satisfaction as Ethan's caller ID disappears from the phone screen. Without the distraction of the obnoxious ringtone, Mark easily slips back into his editing algorithm. 

It's not long before Mark's phone blinks back to life, Ethan's name displayed across the glass while the ring tone blares. Again, Mark ignores it, letting the buzzing become white noise. Ethan's an annoying little shit, but if Mark ignores the messages for long enough, Ethan will leave him alone.

The call passes just as quickly as it came.

And then it rings again. Mark's jaw clenches unintentionally, the burbling ringtone becoming increasingly irritating, but he remains focused on the dramatic score board he's editing into the video. 

When his phone lights up for the sixth consecutive time, Mark decides he's fed up.

" _What_?" He seethes into the speakers, hoping Ethan will take the hint from his hostile tone.

"Mar'," Ethan breathes heavily over the line, "C'n - a-are you busy?" 

Oh, Mark could kill the guy right now.

" _Busy_?" He begins, only to get spoken over.

"I need you to c'me get me," Ethan slurs, exhaling shakily. "Please."

"...Are you fucking kidding me?" Mark snaps, voice low and smooth. In the back of Mark's mind, the small sliver of his brain that isn't overcome with annoyance notices the way Ethan's voice wavers. The pair is definitely at the point in their friendship where Mark can sure as hell recognize his friend's upset-talking-through-tears voice. Upon hearing that voice asking him for help, Mark should be concerned, but all he can think about is the fucking nerve Ethan must have to ask him for more favors. 

"Ethan, I am in the middle of editing your video, I haven't fucking slept in-"

"Mark, please, please," Ethan pleads, his voice loud and uncharacteristically desperate. "I really - I need...'m sorry, Mark," he whimpers, "I can'...can't fin' my car." 

"What?"

"Can't-Can't fin'....I can't find m' car," Ethan murmurs, his voice slow but frantic. 

"Are you..," Mark trails off, barking out a humorless chuckle. He cannot fucking believe Ethan. "Are you seriously _drunk_ right now?" 

"No!" Ethan hiccups, "'M not drunk!"

"Lying to me doesn't make me want to help your sorry ass," Mark bites furiously. He runs a free hand through his hair, trying to coax himself into taking deep breaths. 

Ethan, even through the phone, sounds absolutely distraught. 

"'M sorry, m' sorry Mark, I jus' - please, _please_ co-come get me, please," Ethan begs pathetically, his voice stretching into a soft.... _sob_?

Is Ethan _sobbing_? 

"Mark, please, I _ca-can't_ ," Ethan continues, borderline hyperventilating.

Mark hears Ethan struggling to breathe, and his brain immediately snaps into to Mother-Hen-Mark-Mode.

"Hey, hey," he asserts, talking over Ethan's incessant babble. "You're okay, Eth, you gotta breathe."

Ethan cries softly over the line, sucking in quick gulps of air.

"I don', I don' wan'," Ethan slurs, and it's a little hard to decipher his words, but Mark manages. "I-I don' wan' him to...," Ethan mumbles something at the end, but Mark doesn't catch it.

"Ethan, you gotta to speak clearer, I can't understand you," Mark instructs while saving all his editing progress to the computer.

Ethan lets out a harsh sob, "H-He's gonna fin' me." 

Mark sighs, questioning how he's the one who has to deal with a delusional Ethan. Alcohol has always made Ethan a little...emotional, if not a bit paranoid, and there's a reason he actively avoids Drunk Ethan. Regardless, Mark humors him, "Who's gonna find you?"

He can practically hear the guy's airways expand as Ethan's breaths get more erratic. Before Mark can offer any comfort, Ethan's already rambling, spitting out incoherent words that don't seem to follow any sort of sentence structure. 

"Ethan, you're drunk," Mark raises his voice over Ethan's so the man will hear him, "There's no one there, bud." 

Ethan argues with him almost immediately after Mark gets the words out, but between the way he's tripping over his words and the wheezing breaths, Mark doesn't comprend anything Ethan's trying to communicate. 

"Hey, where's your friend?" 

Ethan coughs harshly. "Mark, he's gon-gonna get me if I go b-back."

Mark groans internally. 

"Ethan, you have to calm down. I promise you buddy, there's no one there, you're just a little disoriented," Mark explains soothingly as he pulls on a pair of joggers. "I'm gonna come get you, okay?"

Ethan just about explodes as he shoves out thank you after thank you. 

"Where are you?"

"I-I ran to the-to the parking," Ethan responds, considerably less panicked that before, "um, the...the stairs."

A parking staircase...?

"Can you text me your location?" Mark asks, figuring it will be a million times easier to get directions if he just sends Mark the exact location.

"You're not," Ethan sniffles, his voice still scared and watery, "You won' leave the call, right? You'll wait for me while I send it?" 

Mark's heart fucking aches, and it's the first time all night he's not angry with the other boy. "Yes, Eth, of course. I'm not hanging up until you want me to, okay?"

"'Kay," Ethan whispers. 

The line goes quiet for the first time as Ethan fumbles with the device. 

"Mar'?" He speaks up, "Still there?"

"I'm here, bud. I'm grabbing my keys right now," Mark reassures. His phone pings with a little notification from Ethan. 

Over the line, Mark can hear Ethan murmuring to himself, desperately trying to calm himself down. As far as he can tell, it's working.

Mark pulls out of the driveway. 

"Alright, I'm on the road now. I should be there in," Mark squints at the map, "eleven minutes. How're you holding up?" 

"I'm…," Ethan's voice breaks, and Mark can't tell if it's because he's crying again or because of the strain of usage. 

"'M scared, Mark," Ethan whispers like he doesn't want anyone but Mark to hear.. "W-What if, what if he c'mes back?" 

Mark bites his lip, deciding to tread carefully. "Eth, you keep talking about a 'he'. Who exactly are you talking about?" 

"I don't-I don't 'member his name," Ethan breath hitches, "but…"

His breathing picks up again, and Mark can't do anything other than listen to his friend panic. He really can't tell if this is a person Intoxicated Ethan accidentally made up, or if someone actually scared him. It wouldn't be the first time alcohol has made Ethan paranoid, but it's also pretty close to Halloween, so it's a high possibility people were dressed up at the club and someone jump scared Ethan. Mark's seen first-hand what Ethan's like when he's under the influence, and he knows a jump scare would send Ethan running if he didn't have a friend with him.

"Hey, hey," Mark says loudly over Ethan's sharp breaths. "You really need to calm down."

"...I'm sorry, Mar'."

"I know, Ethan, it's okay-"

"Are you mad at me?" Ethan whimpers, and it makes him sound like a fucking preschooler. "'S okay, that you are, 'm just...'m so sorry."

"Ethan, it's-"

"Tonight was for you an' Amy, and I _ruined_ it!-"

" _Ethan_ ," Mark yells, finally grabbing the other's attention. "You didn't ruin _anything_ , let's just - can we talk about this in a little bit? I'm - I''ll be there in two minutes, okay?" 

"I wan' you to be here now," Ethan sniffles. He's crying again, and Mark really, _really_ doesn't know what to say. He's never heard Ethan like this before. 

Mark scrambles for something, anything, to comfort the younger. "Two minutes, Eth, I'll be there in two minutes."

Ethan cries softly as Mark gets off the highway. 

"Pl-Please don't hang up," he begs. 

Mark's head hurts. He's trying so hard to extend his patience, but it's incredibly hard when Ethan's panicking in circles. It's been a long fucking night, and it's really not his fault if a bit of annoyance slips into his voice.

"I already told you, I'm not hanging up," Mark reassures, "I'm almost there, just stay where you are." 

"I'm on - I moved to the - to the curb. 'M on the curb," Ethan informs, and it's a relief to hear him speak a sentence with his voice cracking. 

Mark pulls into the park garage, "That's great, buddy, I'll be there in less than a minute." 

Mark has to drive about two levels up before he finds Ethan. Thankfully, it's not super hard to spot his figure curled up on the nasty concrete. 

He pulls the car right up to the curb, putting it in park and not bothering to turn it off before rushing out to Ethan. 

Ethan stares at him with dilated, unfocused eyes, and the tear tracks are painfully visible on his cheeks, even from a distance. As Mark runs up to him, he notices Ethan's shirt is buttoned up incorrectly, but it's really the least of his worries.

"Mark," he calls softy, sluggishly holding his arms up. Mark takes the hint, swiftly helping the boy to his feet. He throws an arm under Ethan's armpit, attempting to help him walk to the car. He's a little thrown off when Ethan collapses into him, trembling arms clutching his torso. 

"You-You came," he cries into his friend's shoulder, "'M so sorry, 'm r-really sorry, Mark."

Mark pulls his arms tight around his friend, instinctively rubbing circles on his back.

"Hey, hey," Mark murmurs as comfortingly as he can, "You're okay, Eth, you don't need to apologize. You're okay."

Ethan mumbles something else, but it's muffled by the fabric of Mark's hoodie. After a second, he tries to pull out of the hug, but Ethan still clings to him like Mark will make a break for it the second he lets go. 

"Ethan, c'mon, let's get inside the car," Mark coaxes gently. Ethan nods and allows Mark to pull away, but he still keeps an arm glued around him. It soon becomes apparent that Mark is supporting most of Ethan's weight.

"Dude, how much did you drink," Mark grunts as Ethan trips over his feet. 

"Only had...had two," Ethan answers quietly. Mark knows that's a fucking lie, if the slur of his speach is anything to go by. Instead of arguing, he pulls the passenger door open for Ethan and helps him buckle. When Ethan's taken care of, Mark settles himself in.

"C'n you," Ethan hugs his torso, watery eyes staring down at his knees. "Will you lock the door?...Please?" 

Mark locks the car, noticing the way Ethan relaxes the slightest but at the audible locking sound. 

Mark takes a deep breath. "Ethan-"

"Drive somewhere else," Ethan whispers, still not meeting Mark's eyes. " _Please_."

"Okay," Mark complies softly, not wanting to upset his friend. It takes a minute, but he finds his way out of the parking garage. Maybe it's the fact that Ethan is no longer sitting on the ground, alone and terrified in a sketchy ass parking garage, but he's a lot less talkative than he was ten minutes ago. To say the least, it's concerning.

"Ethan," Mark starts slowly, "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

Mark is focused on the road, but he still sees Ethan stiffen at the request. 

"...C-Could you jus' bring me home, please?" Ethan asks quietly.

Mark narrows his eyes. "You don't want to let me in on why you were sobbing over the phone fifteen minutes ago?" 

Ethan doesn't respond, and Mark finds that he's the slightest bit pissed off.

"Listen, I don't really feel comfortable leaving you alone tonight," Mark tries again. "You're gonna spend the night at mine, okay?"

Ethan hesitates before quietly saying, "I-I really need to go home."

This conversation is really dancing along the thin, _thin_ line of what's left of Mark's patience. In interest of composing himself, Mark chooses not to respond to Ethan. Instead, he impulsively pulls into a closed Taco Bell parking lot. 

"Mark, wha-" 

"Ethan," Mark parks the car, yanking one leg up onto the seat so his body is directly facing Ethan. "We are talking about this."

Ethan shifts his body toward the door, his body language very obviously stressed. "Mark, please, just-"

"No, we are fucking talking about this," Mark's voice is firm and holds no room for disagreements. "I do not have the fucking patience right now for your shit. You called me at one in the morning, drunk off your ass, sobbing, _begging_ me to come get you. And I'm not," Mark pauses, rubbing his eyes, "I'm not _mad_ , Ethan. I'm just - I don't understand how you couldn't even walk to the car and now you're seriously trying to play it off like you didn't just beg me not to hang up the goddamn phone call twenty minutes ago."

Ethan's fucking crying again, huddled against the door. He's hugging his middle, slumped over like he's too weak to sit up straight. The sight makes Mark's stomach ache with guilt. 

"Ethan, hey, c'mon," Mark speaks gently this time, already regretting his previous outburst. "Really, I'm not angry. I just need to know what happened that made you so scared." 

"'M not drunk." Ethan sniffles pathetically, not bothering to wipe his tears. "I think…"

Ethan glances up at Mark, looking him right in the eyes. "I-l took the drink he gave me, an'...," Ethan squeezes his eyes shut miserably. "I don' think it was..."

The half sentence hangs uncomfortably in the air, and Ethan doesn't open his eyes. 

Mark stares at Ethan, taking in his fucked up hair and ruffled clothing. The buttons of Ethan's button-down t-shirt are...weird. It's buttoned incorrectly, and Mark can see Ethan's skin through the big ruffles of fabric where the buttons are in the wrong holes. It looks strange, and it's Mark is pretty sure it's not a deliberate fashion choice. He stays puzzled about it for a few more seconds before he notices something else. 

Ethan's fly is down, and his pants are unbuckled. His belt is done up sloppily, the tail end not even tucked back into a belt loop, but that's not the point because Ethan's pants are undone and his shirt is ruffled and buttoned wrong and he's so clearly intoxicated and vulnerable, yet he claims to not be drunk, and suddenly everything is falling into place, and Mark is _disgusted_ , but it makes so much fucking sense.

"Ethan," he finally chokes out. He waits until Ethan looks up at him. "Did...Did someone assault you?" 

Mark watches Ethan's face crumple, and he's sobbing into his hands. 

Someone spiked Ethan's drink, someone took off his clothes when he couldn't defend himself, someone touched him without his consent, someone _took advantage_ of Ethan, of Mark's best friend, and Mark cannot fucking breathe.

"I didn't, I didn't want-," Ethan cries, and Mark's out of the car, sprinting around to Ethan's side. He yanks open the passenger door and shoves Ethan over. Mark half sits on Ethan's seat, pulling the sobbing boy into his chest. 

"Mar', I prom-I promise, I didn' want it!" Ethan sobs, clinging to Mark like a lifeline. "I-I said no, _I said no_." 

"I'm so, so sorry Eth," Mark mumbles earnestly, his own tears dripping onto Ethan's crown. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Ethan shoves his face into Mark's chest, hands fisting clumps of Mark's shirt. He whispers something so soft and broken, Mark almost doesn't hear it. 

"I-It hurt _so fucking bad_." 

Mark _breaks_.

He cannot fucking imagine that type of pain, something that Ethan will have to carry with him for the rest of his life. He holds Ethan tighter, whispering uncontrollable apologies. It's jarring, he's never felt this type of grief before. He prays to his grave and back that he never will again. 

It feels like hours before they're both calm enough to speak, and Mark thinks it might have actually been an hour. His cheeks feel itchy and irritated from his tears, and his arms ache from holding Ethan, but there's nothing in the world that could make him let go right now. 

"Eth?" Mark croaks.

"Yeah?" Ethan whispers, his voice absolutely wrecked.

"I'm...I'm gonna ask you something. I'm sorry, but I need you to be honest with me."

Ethan shifts in Mark's arms, laying his head against his broad shoulder. 

"He didn' do... _that_ ," Ethan responds, voice shaky and uncomfortable. "H-He...touched me. A lot. Under my, under my c-clothes." 

Mark feels sick.

"An' he...I - he wanted me to-to finish," Ethan sniffles, and Mark can tell he feels ashamed. "He-He was mad when I couldn't - 'cause it was _gross_ , and it fucking _hurt_ ," Ethan whimpers. His voice wavers, on the edge of crying again, and Mark helplessly rubs Ethan's back.

"You don't have to tell me, Eth. It's okay," Mark murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on the top of Ethan's head.

Ethan pushes through, ignoring Mark's statement. 

"He tried to make me...um, help him, an' I," Ethan's voice breaks, "I h-hurt him, and I ran." 

Mark squeezes Ethan's arm. "I'm so proud of you, Ethan. I'm so sorry that happened to you. It never should've happened, and it will never be your fault."

Ethan nods against his chest. "C'n we go home now?"

"Yeah, buddy," Mark presses another, softer kiss to Ethan's hair, "I love you." 

"I love you too," Ethan rasps, sneezing Mark's arm. 

Reluctantly, Mark let's go of Ethan, dragging himself back to the driver's seat. He puts the car into drive.

"We're gonna talk more tomorrow," Mark says gently. "I'm…I'm really sorry that happened, Eth, I'm-" 

Mark glances over to find Ethan's eyes closed, his head propped up against the door. He's been through the ringer tonight, and Mark thinks the least he can do is let his friend rest. 

Anything he has to say can wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> My dyslexic ass finished this at 1:30 am, please let me know if you find any big mistakes lol.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> <3


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